‘Very well,’ said I, witnessing in the vague indeterminable twinkle of the unpolished jet of his eye that he detected in me the mirth I flattered myself I had concealed; ‘after breakfast you will convey your resolution to Sir Wilfrid, of course taking care to insist if he should object, for after what has happened your connection with him must cease.’
‘As you wish; sir,’ he exclaimed, giving me a bow with the whole spine of him; ‘but, gentlemen, I should like to state that whatever may be the work Captain Finn puts me too, I would rather do it as an ’and than as a boy.’
I felt a bit sorry for the poor devil. It seemed to me that he had accepted his alternative with some pluck.
‘A boy is the next grade to ordinary seaman,’ said I; ‘you will be a hand just the same.’
‘What can you do?’ exclaimed Finn, running his eye over the figure of the man with an expression that was not one of quite unmixed contempt. ‘Can ’ee go aloft?’
The fellow clasped his hands and turned up the whites of his eyes. ‘Not to save my precious soul, sir.’
‘You can row,’ said I.
‘I’ll feather an oar agin any Thames waterman,’ exclaimed Muffin.
‘Enough has been said,’ I exclaimed, rising. ‘The stewards wait to lay the cloth for breakfast,’ and so saying, I mounted on deck, followed by the captain, who, after I had exchanged a few words with him, went forward to break his fast before relieving old Crimp.